


Love

by angelsbow



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Study, Depression, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), honestly this whole fic is a spoiler for marianne so if you don't want that don't read it, i cant believe i fell into this rare pair hell hole, i think this also qualifies for, this is rated m and it's definitely mature but they don't have sex if anyone is expecting that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 15:33:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20677718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsbow/pseuds/angelsbow
Summary: Love was confusing. Love was hard.Especially for someone like Marianne, who denied love for herself for so long.





	Love

**Author's Note:**

> **EDIT:** Hello! this fic is very old, however I don't have the heart to delete it. It is not terrible & unreadable, but do take some of the characterization in it with a grain of salt. It was written not too long after 3H came out so if you think sylvain or marianne's characterization is a bit wonky, here's your explanation.
> 
> **BEFORE ANYONE READS: A WARNING: ** there's an explicit mention of self harm halfway through the fic. I'm not sure if it would be uncomfortable but I thought I'd give a warning anyways. If you want to avoid it just don't read the paragraph that starts with "Marianne remembers the time she almost died.", and if you want to be extra safe don't read the paragraph after that too. 
> 
> Anyways, now that out of the way. Um. I don't have much to say to myself. I just love sylvain/marianne a lot and marianne so. This is what happened. they're in love.
> 
> Also as a side note: don't think too deeply about what's happening in Fodlan post canon in this fic. I'm not a fan of the whole unification thing so I just refer to the Alliance and Kingdom as two separate things for convenience sake. I feel like Fodlan is like unified in title, but the countries are still sovereign.

Marianne did not understand attraction.

That was a fact true for most of her life. When you're drifting between life and death, you didn't have much thoughts about romance. Or rather, it was something that felt like a distant dream. Unreachable, unattainable.

It was a fabricated tale of fiction in Marianne’s world. 

Books were a great gateway to escape the horrible reality of her life. She could easily whisk herself away into the world of fiction, and forget about all of her burdens for a moment. And that’s what she did when she was younger; a genre she sometimes indulged in was glamorized romance. 

But books did not mean Marianne understood what it meant to be attracted to someone, to love them, to have someone love you back. Such a thought was foreign to her. 

Marianne could tell when someone looked nice, _ attractive _ even, but she never bothered with those kinds of feelings. They were fleeting. Fleeting feelings that she didn’t deserve to have. Who could possibly have interest in her, the bearer of misfortune. 

She remembers when she used to be a student in Officers Academy, sometimes she would hear other students talk about who they have hooked up with in passing. But Marianne never understood those kinds of conversations. Should this not be a private matter between two people?

Dating… the idea of it seemed so foreign to her. With the Crest of the Beast in her blood, simply nothing good would come out of someone getting close to her. Even her own adoptive father-- who has his own personal agenda for her-- specifically told her to never bring up her crest in the academy when courting. The nobility praised crests, even sought out marriages with someone who had a crest...but there was nothing to praise about the Crest of the Beast. Fodlan was terrified of her crest.

Marriage was expected of her, but thought of having a family with someone terrified her. The Crest of the Beast would get passed on… and the curse would live on. Marianne did not wish to pass along her burdens. She just wanted to live a quiet life-- alone.

But that made her a stranger to many feelings. 

She did not understand the feelings people talked about. The joy of finding love-- she has read about it in countless books, but to experience it truly perplexed her. Marianne spent a great portion of her life traumatized and depressed, so the thought of someone loving her puzzled her. She did not think she deserved love. How could someone as awful as her deserve the kindness and love from others? 

Her crest was nothing but a burden...a burden she did not wish to pass on to a future lover. 

The thought of being in love always terrified Marianne, especially when her adoptive father originally sent her off to Garreg Mach to court a powerful noble. 

But that was the past. Marianne was 23 years old now, and she was slowly recovering from her wounds.

* * *

_ "Derdriu, the Aquatic Capital...I've heard it's a magnificent city, you know. If we're going, I wish it wasn't to wage war. It'd be more fun to visit with a cute girl on my arm." _

Marianne didn't mean to eavesdrop on the conversation, but perhaps it was her lucky day to hear such words come out of Sylvain's mouth. This was exactly the kind of opportunity she was looking for. Sylvain...wanted to visit Derdriu…

He was right, it's a shame that they're visiting Derdriu for the wrong reasons...but. Perhaps, she could take him up on that idea. Maybe this was a good time to finally fulfill the vague promise Marianne made to Sylvain five years ago. She told him that someday the two of them could go out to town together when she felt more confident. But now that five years have passed she just didn’t know when to bring up the topic.

Not when they were in the middle of the war, and had far greater things to do and worry about than taking strolls in a town. 

So instead, Marianne gave him shy smiles and soft hellos. 

.....

Derdriu was a big city, and Marianne didn't know where to go. At first, Marianne and Sylvain strolled around the city having a lighthearted conversation, but after a while she wanted to show him something in the city. They were only staying in Derdriu for a couple days, who knows if Sylvain would have the chance to come to Derdriu again. 

:Sometimes they offer boat rides around the city but… because of the fighting, they stopped offering that service for the time being," Marianne paused for a second thinking where else she could take him within the city. Despite it being the Alliance’s capital, it was a quiet day in Derdriu today. They were currently in the shopping district of the city. "I’m sorry… I don’t think I can really take you anywhere interesting."

"Maybe next time then," Sylvain mused.

"Next time…?" He wanted a next time?

"That is, if you’ll have my company."

"I think that would be nice," Marianne admitted to him. Sylvain...didn't make awful company. In fact, he was surprisingly good company. He mostly spoke, and pointed out things to her, and he would listen to her when she had something to say. It was pleasant to be around him. 

He gave her a smile. "I look forward to it."

Something about the way Sylvain looked right now was...beautiful.

There was a genuine smile on his face. A smile that reached his eyes. Marianne didn’t notice at first, but there was some sort of sadness swirling inside of Sylvain. A sadness she knew well. With all the smiles he’s given her, this one felt real. 

Looking at him, it made her heart feel warm. Marianne wanted to see Sylvain's face light up like that more. 

* * *

This started to be a persistent feeling. 

Suddenly everything Sylvain did, there was a certain charm to it. When he laughed, when he frowned, when he smiled, her head was filled with thoughts of him. 

When he passed her some supplies, sometimes their hands touched and her fingertips tingled as if she ran her hands through hot water. The feeling would linger, and she would just think about him. When he asked her what time it was, her heart skipped a beat forgetting time existed for a second. 

She just liked hearing him talk, hearing him say her name. 

Marianne just didn’t understand what this was… was this love? Infatuation? Was she dying? 

She decided to confide in Hilda about this peculiar situation. 

_ "Sounds like you have some sort of feelings." Is what Hilda told her after Marianne described everything to her as vaguely as possible. _

_ "I see…" _

_ "But it sounds like you’re just crushing. You’re in that phase of ‘Ooooohhh everything they do I am head over feels for’," Hilda explained. "If you want to know it’s real see if your feelings hold up if that person got a different haircut. If they’re ugly, then they’re ugly-- you’re just crushing." _

_ "I don’t think that’s possible for me to see…" Marianne wasn’t going to suggest Sylvain to cut his hair, even if his hair did look a little wild. _

_ "Well, okay what if some accident happened, say their hair accidentally caught on fire because of a mishap with a fire spell," Hilda threw out an idea for Marianne."Then, you could see." _

_ "Hilda!" Marianne exclaimed. _

_ "I’m kidding! I would never seriously suggest burning someone’s hair, it takes a loooooong time to grow that out." Hilda unconsciously ran her hand through her long hair. "Anyways, my option two is test it out with physical contact." _

_ Physical contact... _

_ "I’d say a hug would be good, or-- ooooo maybe riding a horse together. Now that’s a test of patience. If you don’t like someone, it’s the absolute WORST," Hilda couldn't help but complain. Riding a horse together...but when would that sort of opportunity come. It seems like this sort of scenario only happens in some sort of unrealistic romance story. _

_ "What if we both know how to ride a mount? And have our own horses…" Marianne asked her. It was an unrealistic scenario for both of them, both Marianne and Sylvain had horses. "How would that work…" _

_ "Well perhaps that’s a little too much work then." Hilda stayed silent for a moment thinking of something. "You’re so shy too Mari, so try hand holding. A good indirect way to hold hands with someone is to high five or to ask compare hand sizes. It’s not really hand holding, but that gives you enough of a time frame to see if you feel anything. If there’s butterflies, or a tingly feeling then there’s your answer." _

In all honesty, Marianne did not know how to ask Sylvain for a high five out of nowhere (and what sort of situation could she get the two of them into that would allow for one? She couldn't possibly create a plan like that and be successful. It was simply too complicated), so she decided to stick with something more simple. She was going to ask him to compare their hand size, even though maybe that's even more weirder than a high five. 

But on a whim, she decided to say something entirely else. 

"Hey Sylvain, can I… look at your hands…" Her voice grew more quiet with each word. It was a bizarre request to spring on someone. 

"Uh, sure?" he was confused, but he held out his hands for her anyways. "What for? Did you hear something. It wasn't me who injured their hands; that was Caspar."

"Ah, nothing like that." Hid hands certainly looked fine, and showed no sign of bruising or being injured. "You use magic too, right?"

"A little, but I'm not as experienced as you," Sylvain weirdly praised her. She decided that wasn't important even if it made her feel nice. 

"You and I use different kinds of magic, and I was curious if fire magic users might have rougher texture on their hands because of the direct contact with a flame," Marianne explained to him. It was possible to get lightning scars because of thoron magic, so her train of thought wasn't exactly an invalid thing to be curious about. Marianne didn't exactly have a concentration on what type of magic she used compared to Sylvain. This was a very roundabout way to hold hands with someone, but at least it worked. That's all that mattered to Marianne. 

Sylvain just quietly watched her as she observed his hands. It was rare to see Sylvain without his armor on. There was no glove on his hand...yet his hand felt warm. It didn't particularly feel rough or soft. It just felt...like an average hand. Marianne ran her fingers through his hand, and he slightly jerked his hand back. She looked back up to him. 

"Sorry, reflex. Your touch tickles." Marianne gave him a quiet apology. "Well, what's your opinion on my hand?" he inquired. 

"...Your hand feels warm," she noted. 

Sylvain clasped his hand around hers. "Hmmmm, and your hand feels cold."

But whatever Sylvain said to her didn't exactly register to her head at all. She looked at their hands intertwined, and stayed quiet. Marianne didn't know how to describe it, but it felt like she wanted to hold his hand for an hour. 

Marianne did not know what to say to him, so she stayed quiet, while holding his hand. "Um...haha, your hand looked heavy," Sylvain joked. 

"I’m not holding anything though?" Marianne pointed out to him. 

"You’re holding my hand."

_ Holding hands. They're holding hands. _

Marianne tried her best to play it cool, "Is your hand heavy then?" she asked. Oh what a master of flirting Marianne was. 

"Yeah, can you support it?" What she would normally expect out of Sylvain would be a flirty smile paired with such a line, but something about his expression looked softer than usual. 

Her heart was beating loudly. 

* * *

"Marianne, you got another letter from the Gautiers."

Sylvain and Marianne have been exchanging letters ever since they parted ways. It was a bit difficult being so far away from one another...but she always had his letters to look forward to. Letters that were meant for her eyes alone. 

Somehow, Marianne fell in love with Sylvain. 

She was not good at understanding her newfound feelings, but she knew Sylvain made her feel things. He surprisingly swept her off her feet. 

Something just...felt warm in her heart. When Marianne started having these sorts of feelings for Sylvain, at first she thought she was having a heart attack...and embarrassingly asked Manuela about this continuous "chest pain". The conclusion from their little conversation (after listening to Manuela's love woes) was that she held some feelings towards Sylvain. 

Love was just an emotion Marianne was not used to. It was something she deprived herself of many years, platonically and romantically. Now, she was slowly picking up the puzzle pieces and putting it together. 

Marianne was 24 years old, and was finally allowing herself to feel emotions she once didn’t have the energy or right to feel. 

“Thank you,” Marianne thanked her adoptive father, and took the letter from his hands. He was curious what their whole deal was, but didn’t pry too much into her business. Margrave Edmund was currently overflowing with pride over the prestige Marianne brought to their house by the end of the war. It was a strange feeling, to be appreciated. 

“Marianne, you’ve been talking to this boy for a while now. The war is over now; are you considering my advice,” Margrave Edmund bluntly asked her. 

“...Maybe.” But it wasn’t his advice. Sylvain and Marianne already had this conversation prior to leaving Garreg Mach. Both of them mutually agreed that marriage isn’t something that the two of them are rushing into if they’re going to enter a relationship. There were various matters to be settled first in their respective territories after the war over before they could think about marrying. Which was fine with her. Their love was slow and steady

Margrave Edmund looked ecstatic, proud to see Marianne linking up to a very powerful noble family.

But Marianne didn’t care about any of that. She just wanted to see Sylvain again. 

She picked up a quill and started writing. 

_ Can’t wait to see you. _

* * *

* * *

No matter how many times Marianne visited Sylvain, she could never get used to the cold weather of the Kingdom. Even living in the Edmund territory, which is up north in the Alliance, couldn't prepare her for the Kingdom’s weather. The cold temperatures that she shivered to were nothing compared to the icy wind of Faerghus.

Sylvain could be shirtless in -10 degree weather, and Marianne would still be shaking in a winter coat looking like a penguin. Maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but that's what it felt like to Marianne. 

It was ridiculous how cold it got here, especially since Gautier territory was so far up north in the Kingdom. 

There was a certain beauty to the way snow covered everything around her. It was as if the snow lulled all the plants and animals to sleep, before summer rises and everything blooms back to life. But every time she came to the Kingdom, she missed the warmth of the Alliance. Even if that warmth was separated by several degrees. 

Marianne wondered if she too, could bloom...rise from the cold ground into a beautiful flower. That was a silly thought; she was not a plant but she couldn't help but wonder. Many poets have used metaphors like these as allegories of life. 

She let out a hot breath. Marianne was currently miserably laying in bed. Her hair that was usually up was disheveled and grossly stuck to her sweaty skin. Amidst this beautiful frost that covered the land, she somehow managed to catch a nasty cold. 

"Achoo!" she sneezed into the blanket. "Ughh," Marianne groaned. Disgusting. As soon as she was feeling better, she needed to change the bedsheets as soon as possible. 

She helplessly layed in bed. She felt tired, drained. It was a different kind of tiredness...she was not unaccustomed to tiredness, after all she dealt with terrible insomnia for years. Marianne wanted nothing more but to close her eyes and rest. Being ill was the worst. 

"Morning love," Sylvain called out to her.

She perked up at the sound of his voice "O-oh! Sylvain. I thought you left already?"

"Without saying goodbye to you? I’d be a terrible fiance if I did." He gave her a kiss.

He felt cold against her; it was a strange sensation. Normally, he was the radiator for her cold body. Snapping out of her thoughts, Marianne pushed him away. "H-hey don't kiss me! You could get sick."

"We can suffer together," Sylvain winked at her.

"Sylvain..." she gave him a look.

"I know, I know." He put up his hand in defense. "But truly, I'd rather be sick with you than attend these meetings. Doesn't anyone understand how important it is to take care of my poor sick fiancee."

Marianne deadpanned. "Sylvain, this is just a cold." She almost shooed him away from her but his for once cold hands felt nice on her gross, sweaty hands. "Do you not want to see Felix?" Marianne asked him out of curiosity.

Sylvain frowned. "Well I do, but not under such serious circumstances." 

"Well, please send them my-- _ achoo _!" Marianne quietly sneezed into the blanket again. She inwardly groaned at all the germs she spread in their bed. 

"You sound like a kitten," he noted. 

"A k-kitten..."

"A very cute one," Sylvain reminded her. He leaned down and kissed her again. "Try to rest more?" 

"...! Sylvain!" she yelped again. His cold touch was nice to her feverish body, but she was sick. She did not want to pass on her cold to him as well. Did no one teach him to not kiss the sick?

"Love you," he told Marianne.

Her fingers went to her lips. She sighed to herself, feeling the hot breath on her fingers. 

She was in love. 

Her heart was warm, but Marianne wondered how can someone be so smart and not so smart at the same time. 

* * *

"Does it look poorly on me if I always keep coming to you?" Marianne asked him one day, after opening up a letter from her adoptive father. "I should...probably bring you to Edmund territory."

Marianne often forgets the fact that she and Sylvain are going to get married. And they're not actually married. Sometimes, she just runs into his arms for a hug, and that's it. Sometimes she tells him a silly joke, and he gives her a pity laugh. Or sometimes, when she has the chance to be with him she just wakes him up at 3AM to describe a very specific dream she had involving mice who started their own opera company. It kind of felt like they were married already.

"No, but my own home is not that warm," Sylvain admitted to her.

"You're warm," she told him. 

"Are you just here to mooch off my warmth."

"Maybe…"

Perhaps they were each other's home.

* * *

It's been far too long since Mariannce has seen Hilda. She was happy to see her best friend in person instead of the letters they regularly exchanged. 

"What do you think of the tea?" Marianne asked Hilda. 

"Great! You got my fav, and you didn't forget the pastries either. You treat me so well, Marianne. God, I'm exhausted after travelling so long," Hilda complained. 

"Would you like to rest then? It's fine we can talk later..."

"No, no, it's fine. I missed my pal," Hilda waved off any worries Marianne had. "I also have something for you."

"Oh...you didn’t have to get me anything Hilda…" Marianne told her. Shouldn’t she be the one offering gifts to guests. She felt like she was kind of a bad hostess. They were friends and this was not a political tea party, but she couldn’t forget the proper etiquette. Lorenz would probably chide her for it. She missed Lorenz. Marianne made a note to pen him a letter later. 

"Well, I didn't buy it so it's fine. I made this for you," Hilda handed her a box.

Marianne carefully opened it, and inside of it was a pin. It was long, the end of it adorned a flower. It was a beautiful silver flower with five petals that glittered with carefully placed gems. Hilda's metalwork always impressed Marianne. 

"It's beautiful...are you sure I can have this?" Marianne asked with uncertainty. Surely, Hilda was better off selling it to some noble than gifting it to her for free. 

"Duh I'm giving it to you, aren't I? It's all for you Marianne."

"Thank you Hilda...I'll make sure to treasure this."

"So tell me,” Hilda propped her hands under her chin, giving Marianne her full attention. “Anything exciting happened? Any scandalous news?" Hilda always liked to gossip with her, even if Marianne had no idea what she was talking about a lot of the time. "I visited Annette on the way here, but otherwise my trip has been really boring." 

"Oh Annette! Is she doing well?" It's been a while since Marianne talked to Annette. They were not particularly close, but she did consider her a friend. Annette was nothing but kind to Marianne. If she remembered right, Lysithea was also friends with her.

"Think so. She's been real busy lately trying to become a professor at that sorcery academy in Fhirdiad...I can't help but worry she's overworking herself," Hilda noted to herself, and sighed. "Guess I'll just have to pay her another visit."

"Oh! I hope she gets the position. Please send her my regards if you do visit her," Marianne told Hilda. 

"Will do but. Marianne I have a question for you," Hilda turned the topic back to her. 

"Yes?"

"You are married right."

She looked down on her finger. "...Yes?" Her hand did in fact have a ring on it. Why was Hilda asking her a question like that. 

"Ok so, don't freak out over how I word this but, did you and Sylvain fuck yet," Hilda bluntly asked her as if it was a casual question. Marianne almost choked on the tea they were drinking. "You just never mentioned it in your letters-- OOOoooooh is Sylvain bad at sex? I see, well, I saw this coming but I’m so sorry-"

"N-no!" Marianne interrupted. "We haven’t had...sex yet," she almost hesitated saying the words out loud. _ Oh Goddess, I'm so sorry. _

"Yet? Are you planning on it?" Hilda asked, curious. 

"I-I don’t know. I just...I’ve never been with anyone before." And really, Marianne for years thought that she wouldn’t allow herself to find love. The burden her crest carried was too much of a heavy weight for her to not think about. She always thought that she would have ended up dying alone, not even daring to go past age 20. Now she was in an awkward limbo trying to catch up on the years she miserably lost due to her depression. "I don't know what I'm feeling or doing. A-and I read some...book t-that-"

"That's enough Mari," Hilda stopped Marianne's blubbering thoughts. "Those erotica books are garbage, and hardly reflect on what actual sex is like."

"Is that so..." Marianne ducked her head, embarrassed. "So I wouldn't have to tie up Sylvain then?"

Hilda laughed, hard. "Bwahahaha...no. But I'm sure he wouldn't be opposed to it."

"What do you mean?" Marianne asked her innocently. Why would you tie someone up during sex? That seems uncomfortable. Would he even be able to do anything if she restrained him? 

"Well..." Hilda stared at Marianne for a moment, debating whether to elaborate on her thoughts or not. "Nevermind. The point is that it's okay if you're inexperienced. There’s no shame in that. Even the most experienced people don’t always get it right. You can't jump into a relationship expecting to know everything. You have to figure that out together, and it takes time."

"I see…" What Hilda told her made sense. After all, a relationship is two people working together. Love was not just kisses and romantic dates as books have told her, it was supporting and growing together with someone you love as well. 

"And the most important thing is that you’re happy ok. Don’t push yourself to do things you don’t want to," Hilda sternly told her. 

"But u-um...how do I know if I want something," Marianne asked quietly. Maybe she should really stop talking. 

"Well..." Hilda thought for a moment. "It just feels right."

"It...feels right?"

"Yeah. I mean," Hilda frowned, "I don't know how to explain. You just know it. Like...it's kind of like how sometimes you're in the mood for cake, and sometimes you're not."

"What if it doesn't feel right then?" Marianne inquired. 

"Then it doesn't. And there's no shame in that. Remember that consent is important, and both of the parties have to be happy in a relationship," Hilda took a sip from her tea before continuing. "If your partner doesn't care about how you feel then they're a terrible person and you should dump them."

"That...makes sense," Marianne stirred her cup in thought. 

"Not that I don't trust Sylvain, but I do hope he's treating you right. I don't have to bring up my death threat to him again do I?"

Marianne once again almost choked on her tea. "Again!?"

When did Hilda threaten Sylvain?!

"I can't have someone hurting my sweet Marianne, even if it's a friend," Hilda held up her pointer finger to make a point. "Your happiness is super important to me. I know you never talk about yourself, but I really do worry about you. I've known you for so long..." Hilda didn't need to finish the sentence but Marianne knew what she meant. She was an awfully closed off person, never letting people in. Never letting them look into the heaps of baggage she carried. She's only recently has been slowly opening up herself to others.

"Thank you Hilda but um. I'm okay...If I'm being honest, this is the most I've felt okay," Marianne honestly admitted to her friend. Ever since she left the Officers Academy, the darkness that she fell into has been slowly fading. Her path to recovery has been slow, but she's making progress.

She often wondered if it weren’t for the kindness that everyone showed to her during their school days, would Marianne even be alive at this point? When she was a teenager, she often thought about how pitiful her existence was. 

Marianne remembers the time she almost died. It happened shortly after she was adopted by Magrave Edmund, which made her 14 at the time. She was constantly plagued by the nightmares of what happened in her old home. It was the fault of the crest she carried-- the Crest of the Beast. Marianne deeply slit her wrist in hopes that the stupid crest her body carried would leave. Marianne was not trying to kill herself, but she desperately wanted Maurice's crest to leave her body. She wanted to be crestless. She wanted to no longer suffer. She wanted to lead a normal life, one where people didn't stalk her because of her horribly crest. 

But that was silly of her to do; removing a crest was not such a simple task. Marianne somehow miraculously survived that incident, but was marked with a scar that stretched across her wrist. After that incident, she often thought that the goddess truly cursed her with eternal suffering. She had to live for the sins her kin committed. Her daily prayers consisted of asking the goddess to take her away. 

But, even if it was hard...she no longer wanted her life to be ruled by a crest. Ending Maurice’s thousand year long suffering finally lifted some of the burden she was carrying on her shoulders. She felt lighter. But even with the unification of Fodlan, ideas were hard to shake. Marianne knew that proudly parading her crest out in the open was dangerous. 

But if she could feel comfortable in her own skin, that would be good enough for her. 

"Good, I'm glad to hear that. You deserve happiness," Hilda gave her a smile. 

"I...think so too."

Marianne spent so much of her life denying anything presented to her. Friendship, companionship, opportunities for success. She just wanted to shrink away from society, and hide somewhere where no one knew her. Where no one cared about her.

She did not want to live like that anymore.

* * *

She tightly held a basket to her body. Marianne came here to forage some berries for her bird friends, but a fog set in. She looked back, and she could not see a single thing. She was surrounded by nothing but a thick white fog. 

Her vision was limited. 

She could only really see herself and the ground her feet touched. It was as if the fog was a thick wall, protecting the forest from her. Not a single bird nor person could be heard. The only sound Marianne heard was her heartbeat. 

She walked slowly, each step she took was with careful precision. There was no longer a war raging across Fodlan, but one could not be too careful. War or no war, there were still brigand and thievary problems. Marianne wished she brought a sword with her, the fog was so thick. With her limited range, she could hardly cast a spell accurately, and she was ill suited for close combat. Maybe she should have gone to brawling lessons. 

But Marianne tried to soothe her worries...no one would be here. She just came to this forest for a quick blueberry trip, and was planning to leave as soon as possible. She knew that the shrub she was looking for was nearby. She made this trip countless times. This time was no different. 

"Don't you crave the flesh Marianne," a voice called out to her.

"Huh?" She looked around, startled. 

"You don't have to hide your true form...you can join your brethren."

"My brethren?" Marianne called out, confused. She had no family...all of her family was dead. The only family she had was Robert, but he was a distant relative, nothing more. He was not her father in her eyes. 

"Do you not bear the crest of Maurice...?"

"Who are you?!" She yelled, with more confidence. She did not flippantly part information about her crest to anyone, let alone the true name of it. 

But no one replied to her.

She looked down. Her hands-- they looked like claws. 

There was blood on her hands. 

She was no longer holding a basket. 

_ Wh-Where did the blood come from... _

She watched the blood droop from her hands, into the ground. In front of her, she saw her parents, lying.

.

.

. 

.

.

She snapped her eyes open. She was no longer in a foggy forest, with her parents' bodies. She was in a bedroom, with Sylvain sleeping beside her.

She looked down on her hands. They were shaking, but there were no claws nor blood on them.

It was just a nightmare. 

_ Everything was okay. _

She was safe.

_ Everything was okay. _

She didn't do anything bad because of her crest.

_ Everything was okay. _

* * *

His kisses tickled her skin.

If there was one thing Marianne learned with her time with Sylvain, is that she is a very ticklish person. Marianne didn’t even know she could possibly be sensitive to touch. For as long as she could remember, she always tried to keep her physical contact with people as minimal as possible. She was afraid that bad luck could be transferred through touch. Linhardt assured her many times that is not the case, and luck vs bad luck didn’t work that way, but she couldn't help but fear.

Her life has been in danger too many times because of her crest...that's the burden of bearing the Crest of the Beast. Only misfortune came to those that came close to her.

Or so she thought. Perhaps Linhardt had a point-- Sylvain seemed to be still alive and well. And they've been together for a year now. 

And he was kissing her everywhere. Her face, her neck, her shoulders. 

She did not know what she was doing, but soon enough Sylvain’s shirt came off. 

But something felt wrong. Something felt terribly wrong. Her skin felt prickly. She did not feel any warmth. 

Her crest.

_ Do you not bear the crest of Maurice...? _

Something was wrong. 

"Marianne?" Sylvain called out to her.

She felt a pang in her heart. 

"H-Huh?" Marianne replied to him, feeling frazzled. 

She felt dirty. She wanted to scrub away the feeling off her skin. She wanted her crest gone. 

"Are you okay?" 

"Y-you want to have sex right," Marianne sputtered the words out, pushing herself through whatever she was feeling. She was 25. How is she living like_ this _.

"Oh." He seemed to vaguely connect some dots. But not the ones Marianne was thinking of. His hand that once tugged at the hem of her shirt found place back on her shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze. "No. It doesn't matter. We don't have to have sex if you don't want to." 

"No, no it's not that. I...it's just...it's just..._ just _." She felt frustrated not having enough courage to bring the words out of her mouth. Marianne started to slowly accept her crest, but it was hard to abandon old wounds. The sickly feeling clung to her skin. She wanted to get rid of it. 

"Just what?" Sylvain gently asked her.

"My crest," she weakly told him. 

"What about your crest?" He seemed confused about the sudden topic. "Did you hear about the crest babies thing because-"

"No," Marianne sharply interrupted him. Crest babies...that was the first time she has heard about this but decided to ignore that phrase. "It's not that. It's about my crest. Um." He motioned for her to continue. "How much have I told you about my crest?" In such a frazzled state, she couldn't remember what she told him and didn't.

"You told me you don't like crests, and understand my feelings on them," Sylvain answered. 

So nothing at all. "How much do you know about the heroes who fought alongside Seiros?" Marianne asked him.

"The Ten Elites and the Four Saints?"

She told this story to Professor Byleth. She can do it again. Marianne trusted Sylvain. She is not in danger. Nothing bad will happen. "You are mostly right, but there was another hero...his name was Maurice. He fought alongside the Ten Elites and Seiros." 

"How come this is the first time I'm hearing about this?" Sylvain tilted his head in curiosity. 

"Because he was erased from history..." She simply told him. Her father would often tell her that Maurice was not a terrible person, only corrupted by the power of a crest. Marianne did not know how much truth his words held, but sometimes they brought comfort to her. She was not a terrible person because she had Maurice's crest. She just had the misfortune of having his crest. "He used to be a celebrated hero across Fodlan, but one day he transformed into a hideous beast and slaughtered innocent people. The people of Fodlan grew to despise him, and he was stripped from his honor."

She continued "Maurice's...deeds led him to be erased from history, and his whole clan was massacred...leaving everyone to believe that Maurice's bloodline ended. But there are still a few descendants left over who inherited his crest...my family line is included."

"So...you have Maurice's crest? I've never heard of this crest before..." he mused with no particular emotion in his voice. Marianne figured that he wouldn't know what sort of crest that was, even if she told him. He was successfully erased from history, and the teachings of the Church of Seiros. Only those who had a deep interest in crests or were from the same bloodline as Maurice knew about it. 

Maurice was not known as a hero, he was known as a beast. A beast who killed the innocent. 

She looked into his shoulder blade, finding the freckles on his skin far more interesting than making eye contact with him. "Yes. But the people of Fodlan call his crest the Crest of the Beast because...because it's nothing but a curse. I inherited the crest from my father, and it's been nothing but a cause of misfortune in my life. Maurice's crest is a symbol of disaster. Anyone who comes in contact with it is met with great misfortune."

Marianne took a breath and continued. She got this far already. "It's not a well liked crest...It's actually really dangerous to have our crest known by the public. It is said those who carry the crest of Maurice will turn into beasts. Horrids beasts who slaughter people. My adoptive father paid a large sum to the church so they wouldn't find out my crest...Oh my crest is terrible! It's a crest that brings nothing but misfortune. My parents, they..." She closed her eyes, not wanting to finish the sentence. "They..." She knew the words she had to say, but they would not come out of her mouth. _ They were murdered for their crests. _

Sylvain finally spoke, "You don't have to say. I understand enough. Thank you for sharing with me.” 

"I'm sorry," she apologized to him. And she truly was sorry. It would have been a lot better if she was born without this crest.

He looked at her, with an unreadable expression. "Marianne...this is not your fault. The way Fodlan values crests is fucked up." 

"You might be right on that," she agreed with him. Both of them did not like crests at all. "But um. To elaborate...I just...really don't want to pass the crest on for the time being. I know that you don't always get pregnant from sex, and I k-know that crest don't pass always, and it might not even be my crest that could pass but I just...Please forgive me for being selfish," Marianne rambled into his shoulder. She couldn't dare to make eye contact with him now.

"Marianne, it's alright. You don't have to apologize I understand. But hmmmm..." Sylvain thought for a second. "If that's what bothers you. You know Marianne, sex doesn't have to be just intercouse."

"Huh?"

"Wouldn't it be boring if it was?" he asked her.

"I...don't know," Marianne honestly admitted to him. She has never been in a relationship prior to Sylvain. She did not know what she was doing.

"I can make you feel good in all sorts of different ways," Marianne did not see his face but she could feel the wink oozing out of that sentence. 

She could feel her face and ears heating up. "Huh?!"

Sylvain chuckled, and leaned back so that he could look at her. "You're too cute Marianne. But it's okay, we can figure this out together," his voice dropped into a softer tone. "A relationship is like that."

"...Together." She smiled at the thought.

"Even if your crest is the most hideous thing in the world, I still love you the same. I love you Marianne, I really do. I love you so much."

"Sylvain…"

"And...well," Sylvain hesitated for a moment, "I don't know if this means much right now but. I'd love to raise a family with you."

She felt some sort of emotion within her heart. 

"With...me..." she wordlessly replied.

"But I'm in no rush for either of those things. We have all the time in our lives." 

_ 'We have all the time in our lives' _

She did not realize that tears were falling down her face until Sylvain called out her name. 

"S-sorry I j-just," she didn't finish the sentence. 

She cried her heart out. Marianne was not a cryer, because she felt like she had no tears to cry. Even with all the pain she was carrying around, she felt like she was a desert. She was dry-- she had no tears. Not even the nastiest rumours at the Officers Academy could make her tear up. Or the near death experience she had when she was 14. Or when she was accused of being the Wandering Beast.

But something about Sylvain's words touched her. Despite all her glaring flaws someone loved her. She denied love for so long. She went out of her way and refused friendship and love for so long. 

But her Sylvain was, holding her despite everything. He let her quietly cry, and rubbed circles into her back. 

* * *

It was the dead of night. 

Marianne could not sleep, so she busied herself with some embroidery work. She was not good at embroidery like Bernadetta was, but it helped her pass the time when she couldn't focus on reading. 

She heard some rustling beside her, and glanced over Sylvain. He was awake. 

He was crying.

"Sylvain?" Marianne called out to him. He did not respond to her.

She tried to reach out to him, but he grabbed her wrist roughly. 

"Sylvain?!" It hurt. It felt like he could snap her wrist in half if he tried. "Sylvain please let go..."

But his grip remained tight. Marianne reached out with her other hand to wipe away the tears that fell from his face. "Sylvain, you're alright."

He blinked. Sylvain looked at her as if she was a stranger. But soon enough he realized he was no longer dreaming, and that he was looking at her. 

"Marianne..." He noticed his death grip on her wrist, and let go of it. "I'm...Sorry about that," he choked out the words. 

"Do you want to talk about it," Marianne offered. She was not good at words, she did not know the right things to say to people, but she could always lend an ear to everyone. That's the least she could offer.

"It was just..." he did not finish the thought, but it sounded like he wanted to say nightmare. She stayed quiet, watching him. "It was nothing." 

Marianne and Sylvain, on the surface had nothing in common. They were completely different people. She was shy, he was an extrovert. He was (debatably) good at talking to people, she could hardly keep a conversation going. She wanted to run away from everything, while he embraced the world with open hands.

But as they got to know one another, them, two seemingly different people understood each other well. They understood each other's struggles. Both of them have led difficult lives... It was not uncommon for one of them to find the other waking up from nightmares that still plagued them into adulthood. 

She wished for both of them to find happiness. Together. 

"I'm sorry you had to see that, how uncool of me," Sylvain wiped his tear stained face.

"It's okay to cry. I like it when you do." Marianne weirdly admired his ability to cry. She was so emotionally stunted compared to him. Marianne had no tears left to cry in her body, it was beyond hard to make her cry. She could experience emotions like anger, jealousy, sadness, but they never came with tears. The tears never came. She was just a dried up void.

* * *

Hands were roaming everywhere. Her face, his shoulders, her waist, his chest. 

It felt hot, but it was not uncomfortable. 

Marianne started taking off his shirt and he stiffened.

He kissed her, but the kiss did not carry any gentleness. It was rushed, and rough. She frowned against his lips.

Once he broke away from her she asked him. "Sylvain?"

"Mm?"

Her hands slightly hovered over his chest; he seemed to stiffen every time her hands touched him. 

"Is everything alright?" she asked him gently.

"O-oh yeah, totally fine."

Marianne wasn’t satisfied with that answer. For someone who was extremely bad at emoting herself, or saying the right things she was extremely perceptive of people. She couldn't pinpoint exactly as to why, but she could always tell when things went wrong. She could tell when people were mad at her. She could tell when people were disappointed in her. She could read the slightest change of atmosphere in any situation. 

"Sylvain" Marianne said more firmly this time around.

"What?" he snapped at her.

"We don’t have to do this."

"I told you it's fine." His hand held the sleeve off her dress, but made no attempt to actually follow through and take it off. 

"You did. But do you actually want this?" There was a silence between them. His gaze would not meet her, and he seemed to not give her an answer-- which spoke enough for herself. She pried the his hand that clung to her skin, and instead intertwined it with her hand. "It's alright..." she delicately told him, rubbing circles into his hand. Her hand was a bit sweaty, but Marianne hoped he at least appreciated the sentiment. 

He laughed to himself, but it was not a warm laugh. It was a bitter laugh. "Ah, sorry for ruining things."

She deeply frowned. "I don't care if we have sex or not. I care about how you feel."

There was another silence between them. 

Sylvain finally spoke, "...Marianne."

"Y-yes?"

Sylvain sighed, not looking at her. "You are too kind to someone like me..." 

She could say the same to him. Marianne often thought to herself that sometimes, she did not deserve the kindness people gave her. 

For someone who projects himself as a carefree guy, Sylvain surprisingly had a very low opinion of himself. She wanted him to be happy too. 

They've been far too unkind to themselves for far too long.

She sat in his lap in silence thinking of what to do. Marianne was not good at comforting people. Her tongue got tied up and she could hardly utter words that could make someone feel better. She did not know the right movements when it came to comfort; what is too much and what is too little? 

But for Sylvain, she wanted to put in a little more effort. 

Talking was not her strong suit, and she did not want to touch him because that was not the appropriate response right now. He seemed to shrink away every time she touched him.

She spat out the first thought that came to mind. "Did you know horses can't vomit." 

Unfortunately, her first thought was not a good thought. There was a moment of silence hanging between them. The silence was killing her, it made things awkward and uncomfortable as if they weren’t already. Marianne cursed her inability to have conversations. 

"...What," he said slowly.

Marianne closed her eyes. That was not a good conversation topic. Why did she say that. Why did she dig this hole. How does she climb out of this hole. Her mind was blank, she could not come up with anything else to say. Talking about taxes would be even better than this, but every single topic Marianne knew slipped her mind.

"...Horses can't vomit," she repeated to Sylvain, as if saying that the second time would make it better.

"Um..."

"The more you know," Marianne said weakly.

Sylvain lightly laughed at her. "D-don’t laugh I'm serious. Horses don't have the function for it like humans do. And they’re not the only animals who can’t vomit. A frog will throw up its entire stomach if it eats something toxic," she told him in a manner of fact. Oh my god why was she sharing this disgusting information with him. 

"That's...kinda gross."

"...It's not a fun fact, but it's a fact." 

Sylvain finally made eye contact with her. "Why do you know this?"

Marianne blanked. She didn't know why she knew this or why this popped up in her head. She knew she read this information somewhere, but she couldn't remember when. Maybe Claude told her this? "I read it in a book."

He stared at her. "You're such a bookworm," he stated, but there was no malice in his voice.

"N-not really."

"Says the bookworm that knows frogs regurgitate," Sylvain countered. 

She wrinkled her nose at his words. It was by far the most unpleasant sentence she's heard in her life. "That's a terrible pet name."

"What do you have against worms? I for one think they're important to the world, just like you." 

Marianne just started at Sylvain. "Did you just make worms sound romantic?"

"Hm. Doesn't sound as sexy as I thought it would," he mused to himself. 

She lightly laughed to herself into her free hand. Only he would tell her this. They sat in silence once again. 

“Can I hug you?” he asked her with some sort of vulnerability.

“Yes” She pulled him into a hug. Sylvain was taller and bigger than her, but he felt so small in her arms. 

"Can we stay like this?" he whispered as if it was meant only for her ears, even though there was only the two of them in this room.

"Yes."

* * *

One would think that Marianne was the the little spoon, and Sylvain was the big spoon, but with how cold Marianne would get, she was constantly clinging to Sylvain for warmth. It was truly a mystery how he managed to stay warm, like a fireplace. Perhaps it was strange to compare a person to a fireplace but that’s what he reminded her. Sylvain was warm and comfortable, and she felt relaxed around him.

The weather of Faerghus truly confused her...how could she wear three layers of clothing and still be freezing? Maybe it wasn’t the Kingdom, maybe Marianne is just meant to be an icicle forever. 

Meanwhile, Sylvain could probably stand outside naked and just be fine. She didn’t know if he was a walking furnace or he was just so adjusted to the weather. … Maybe he's just well adjusted. He was practically melting in Ailell.

Today was one of those nights that Marianne was clinging onto him for warmth.

At first, when Marianne met Sylvain she did not notice that Sylvain had freckles. But he did, they were all over his body. She particularly noticed that there was a freckle above his lip, or one at the back of his left hand and it was adorable. 

Sometimes she would trace the freckles on his back if he happened to be shirtless. Sometimes they played a word game together. She would spell something out and he'd have to guess what the word was.

Marianne liked him. So much. 

They didn't need words to enjoy each other's presence...which was a comfort for Marianne, someone who struggled with conversations a lot of times. If she didn't have anything to say, she felt stuck- unsure what to say. But she felt like she didn't have to try with Sylvain. 

Marianne traced his skin gently with her fingers to form an invisible shape. She noticed his back had leo. Marianne wasn't big on astrology as much as Hilda was, but out of insomnia induced boredom she picked up a book on astrology once. She knew a few constellations. 

Sylvain’s body had a lot of scars too. Some of them were faded lines. Others were harsh rough lines that plainly stuck out.

She instinctively lightly traced over one of his scars. He shivered in her touch.

Marianne remembers that scar. Sylvain gave her quite a fright, when he 'gallantly' (his words, not hers) jumped in front of her and suffered a terrible stab wound. He was bleeding so heavily that she thought he was going to die.

Sometimes she wondered. "Do you regret it?" 

He told her that his body just moved on its own, and the next thing he knew was that he woke up in the infirmary. Sylvain constantly got scolded by everyone for recklessly jumping into situations he shouldn't.

Maybe scars meant more to fighters, but to someone like Marianne it was just a reminder of mistakes. She glanced at her wrist.

"Nope."

"Why not?" 

Sylvain turned around and faced her "I told you I'd be your knight right." She did vaguely remember him telling her that once. 

"You said the same thing seven years ago." Marianne never bothered to ask him what he meant by that though.

"Oh you remembered that?" 

"Yes. But you are no knight," she pointed it out to him. He did not choose knighthood how Ingrid or Ashe did.

"Well, not literally. I just meant it more like a dashing knight helps a beautiful maiden in her time of need." Was he talking about them? The way he worded it sounded like their relationship was a fairytale. It was far from that.

She giggled. "That doesn't sound like us at all."

"Really? Am I not the dashing knight you dreamed of Marianne?"

"No," she plainly told him.

His mouth was agape. "What? C’mon play along Marianne," he poked her cheek. 

"I wasn't expecting anything. I did not think I'd ever find love."

"Oh," Sylvain replied lamely. "I guess we're the same in that regard."

"But...I did find it. I’m glad it's you." She was not good with words. But she told him anyways. Marianne saw no point in hiding her feelings. 

His face softened up. "I'm very lucky to have met you Marianne."

Luck...

Marianne considered herself the unluckiest person ever. Her crest meant that she brought nothing but misfortune to those close around her. She closed people off for their own safety. The Crest of Maurice meant nothing but misfortune for those involved with her. 

But here she was, embraced by Sylvain's warm arms. 

Perhaps that was not the case. 

"I love you," she blurted out.

"I love you too," Sylvain told her. 

Love was a strange feeling. 

Love was confusing. 

But after all these years of suffering, maybe she deserved love. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this one hell of a long fic. I love Them. 
> 
> Also don't take half of the stuff I wrote about Marianne's crest/situation as canon. These are just my own thoughts and conclusions.


End file.
